Withstanding the Test of Time
by Hermionewexa
Summary: It's a threeshot about Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, and their very long lives. More reviews please!
1. A Charmed Life

**Chapter 1: Charmed Life**

**Disclaimer: Nicholas and Perenelle aren't mine. That's why this is here - it's _fanfiction, _therefore, _I am a fan._ Illuminated?**

**AN: It's not that Nicholas is incompetent, just that Perenelle is fierce and critical. NOT a good combination. You might find there's an overdose of clichés and quotes in here.**

'_Thou madest man, he knows not why,  
__He thinks he was not made to die.'  
- __Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

**Nicholas Flamel  
****DOB – 1324  
  
****married**

**Perenelle Jourdemain  
****DOB – 1332**

**1364  
**I absently stirred one of the nine potions Nichols and I had been concocting for the last three months. They _had_ to work – they just _had_ to! Apart from the fact that Nicholas would strangle someone if they didn't (probably me, due to lack of cats), I would almost certainly go insane.

We'd searched the mouldy book we found in the attic (you wouldn't _believe_ what we found in the attic) for any little clue about changing lead to gold, or eternal life, or anything else the reputed Philosopher's Stone was supposed to do, and found seven completely different potions. Nicholas and I had added our own versions, and left the potions to– well, to mature, I suppose.

And so we'd kept the extremely complicated potions simmering for ninety days – luckily, potions were always my strong point, and Nicholas wasn't too bad at them, either. Meanwhile, we were trying to go about our lives as normal, faithfully concealing the fact that we were a witch and wizard, and maintaining Nicholas' apothecary.

Now, however, I was standing in the cellar of our house, with potion ingredients and spell books for company. And Nicholas, of course, but he was fervently leafing through multiple copies of old, decrepit manuscripts, and didn't really count. I carefully poured a small amount of potion into a container, moved on to the next cauldron, and did the same.

As I was filling up the ninth container, an idea almost knocked me over.

_I could try combining some of the potions!_

Quickly, as though time had _any_ effect on the quality of the liquidised spells, I took more containers out of the cupboard at my feet (Nicholas considerately puts everything near the ground because I'm not very tall). I began to mix cauldrons one and two, three and four, five and six, and so on. It occurred to me that I should probably record what I was doing, so, instead of fetching writing materials, I performed a quick memory-enhancement charm. Gradually, I worked my way through various combinations.

It wasn't until I mixed numbers three (Nicholas') and seven (mine – it's my lucky number) that something even remotely interesting happened.

"Nicholas!" I hissed. "Stop slaughtering your eyesight and look at this!"

My husband looked up blearily – the bags under his eyes were extremely obvious in the wandlight – and muttered a half-formed, "Wha-?"

By this time, my precious mixture was forming a solid – I think Nicholas called it a 'precipitate'.

I rolled my eyes (something I'd been very prone to since marrying Nicholas), and showed him the now red potion. Nicholas' eyes lit up.

"You've done it, Penny!" he exulted, hugging me.

"Careful!" I choked out, trying not to spill my precious concoction. "And it's Perenelle!"

---

Insert eight years of experiments with the Elixir of Life (mainly conducted by me), and a few small- OK, quite large- oh, all right, then – massive – shouting matches and take yourself to 11:53pm on my fortieth birthday, most of which I spent shut up in a draughty basement.

---

**1372  
**"Penny!"

"What? And it's _Perenelle, _Nicholas," I snapped.

"I've got it!"

"What?"

"This!"

"Get to the point, Nicholas," I sighed in exasperation.

"The – the Elixir of Life!"

_That_ got my attention. "Really?"

"Really." An idiotic grin was plastered all over his face.

"Well?"

"Well – what?" Suddenly he was looking uneasey, and I wondered why.

"Have you tried it yet?"

"I- I was hoping you- er- you might," stuttered the man.

Another roll of the eyes, followed by some extensive yelling, words which should not be heard by a lady, never mind said, and (on Nicholas' part) stuttering.

"You're hopeless!" I finished, rather harshly, and taking the potion from my husband's not-quite-trembling grip. I downed it in one, long gulp.

I would like to say I felt something, or heard angels singing, or was surrounded by light, or whatever, but, truth to tell, nothing even slightly remarkable happened. Since I didn't immediately keel over and die, Nicholas Flamel drank a little himself, which eventually led to him gaining the reputation of being the greatest alchemist in the world, even though I did most of the work.

---

And that was how I began my charmed life.

333333333333333

**AN: Reviews, anyone?**


	2. Living on Borrowed Time

**Chapter 2: Living on Borrowed Time**

**Disclaimer: Nicholas, Perenelle and Dumbledore aren't mine. That's why this is on **

"_Millions long for immortality who do not know what  
__to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon."  
__... Susan Ertz_

**1990  
**Nicholas was out at an opera, unsurprisingly. He said he had to meet his friend Dumbledore. Why they chose to meet at an opera house, I would never know.

Everyone's heard of Dumbledore, so I won't bother describing him, much as I enjoy describing things. All I need to tell you is that they were 'partners on alchemy'. 'Partners in crime' is probably closer, though.

So, Nicholas was out, and I was wondering what to do. I considered cooking, but I wasn't really hungry. Then I wondered about reading, but I knew all my books off by heart (as I would, having read them for 600 years). I went out for a walk. I drew. I played chess with myself. I tried to work out how a telephone worked (that experiment failed miserably). I read and re-read the newspapers. I wondered how a television worked. I cleaned the house. I listened to the WWN. I prepared that night's dinner. I was on the verge of making more Elixir of Life, even though we had plenty, when the doorbell rang politely, if a doorbell can ring politely.

You know, when we first made the Philosopher's Stone, I used to wonder how to create the Elixir of Life. Thanks to Nicholas' patient trial and error, resulting in frequent explosions, melted cauldrons and inquisitive neighbours, we discovered that we needed to soak the Stone in a simple solution - no, I'm not saying what it is – overnight. We committed the ingredients and method to memory, and that was that. My 600 year-old joke was that we were squeezing blood out of stone.  
...

Anyway, the doorbell rang, so, having nothing better to do, I answered it, and found myself face to face with-

_Albus Dumbledore._

"Albus!" I exclaimed. "Come in, come in! Where's Nicholas, incidentally?"

"Hello, Perenelle." Yes, we were on first name terms. "Your husband is-"

A loud pop, and Nicholas finished the sentence. "Right behind you, Penny."

"Perenelle," I growled, and turned round. 600 years hadn't cured him of that infuriating habit of calling me 'Penny'.

The two men took me into the kitchen, and Nicholas quickly cleaned away everything breakable. That was when I began to get suspicious.

After Nicholas' usual act of not getting to the point, I managed to wring a confession out of him. He and Albus had agreed that Albus should look after the Stone, _without_ consulting me, of course. Nicholas still seemed to believe that woman were inferior and not worth bothering with, even women over half a millennium old!

That was when I started looking for breakable objects.

I think I'll skim over the next ten minutes, and jump to the famous Albus Dumbledore explaining to me why he had to keep the Stone.

"So Voldemort's after it?" I asked, using the so-called 'Dark Lord's' name.

"Indeed. I believe you may be safer if I keep the Stone, at present. That is, if you have any Elixir of Life?" What happened to that thing called 'free will'?

Well, of course we had enough Elixir. Nicholas and I could each live for over a year with the amount we had at the moment.

I entrusted the Philosopher's Stone almost willingly to Dumbledore's safekeeping and continued to mourn my loss of free will and live on borrowed time.

**AN: Review, please! So far I've only got one reviewer to thank - Ronnikins4mione. Thankyou for reviewing!**


	3. Numbered Days

**Chapter 3: Numbered Days**

**Disclaimer: This is useless fanfiction. Clearly, I am a fan. I am not JK Rowling, disguised as someone else (and if I am, I'm making a very good job of it, because she surely wouldn't write something so bad). I am not Warner Bros. I have no claim to any of the characters included in this fanfic. I am a FAN! How exciting!**

"_Die, my dear Doctor, that's the last thing I shall do!"  
__Lord Palmerston_

**1992  
**Dumbledore had checked with Nicholas and Nicholas had actually bothered to ask me, and so it was decided. Voldemort had almost got hold of the Stone, and we needed to destroy it.

I'd been called from the kitchen to give my opinion, as if anyone would listen to it, but I'd had to disappear to save the burning dinner. When I reappeared, the smell of not-quite-burnt lasagne in my wake, I'd already made my decision.

"Destroy it," I firmly told Albus' head, which was cheerfully sitting in the fire. I _didn't _tell him that life was beginning to bore me, despite my assertion that 'only boring people get bored'. I suppose that after 600 years, though, I was justified.

Nicholas was assuring Albus that we had plenty of Elixir of Life left to do the small things we had to do, and Albus was looking doubtfully at both of s.

That was when I admitted my thoughts about dying. "I'm quite looking forward to it. It's a bit of an adventure, really. We're travelling into uncharted territory, in a way."

Albus managed to accept that, and disappeared with a 'pop'.

"Nicholas," I suddenly said, "We're going to run out of Elixir on my 660th birthday."

I'd been counting down the days to my birthday, like a five-year-old, and when it eventually arrived, I was surprised to find myself excited. Excited about dying? Whatever next?

Nicholas was tense, but I was perfectly calm and serene. Death would be my long retirement from life; a retirement I had often wished for. I continued to number the days.

Two weeks… a week… five days… three… two… one…

I lay calmly on my bed, listening to Nicholas fidget beside me. Both of us looked older than we ever had, since we'd stopped taking Elixir, and felt it, too. Nicholas, to his utter and amusing horror, had lost his hair and teeth, whereas my hearing had deteriorated extensively and I had a bad hip. I tiredly watched the world go by as death approached.

A sleep was what I needed most, and when death beckoned, I willingly followed. The little strength I had left me, and I felt relief I had never known.

**END**

**AN: It's too dramatic, it's badly written, overall, it's rubbish, but you can review anyway!**

**Click me, click me…**

**..I..  
****..I..  
****.V.**


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